.and goddess,this isn't something i cansweat or starve out of me,i'll have to write and it willbe madness,see i've often thought aboutplacing my head in the pestleand mortar, i wonder if i couldgrind out the hell inside, becomea red pulp on the worktop, andeven the oven keeps tutting at me,it's so easy, just open the doorstick your hand in, feel his forkedtongue on your palm,orange lover, youknow you'rea cowardfor thisand it's truethat the dead are never reallysilent, they grunt and they groanin their damp soil sheets,toss and turn overagain(fill the bath with water, and just drop me in it)
.i want to scrapethe shell off the earth,try and give birth tosomething muchbetter,mould it and feed it and let itset out on its own to beloved,and now, bear cubdon't be sogrizzly,they'll make goodmoney from mum'sclaws and coat,mount her head on thewall by yourbrothers(always dreaming of a blind alley, and this is not a poem, just another ball of paper, throw me into the sun i want the last of the heat to be mine)
.i don't believethat if you can dream ityou can do it,cos i once dreamt thati killed atlas,i tore him limb from limb and theni stabbed the globe he held,watched itdeflate,and sometimes i get sadabout the children in the worldwho will choke on all the wordsthat they'll never learn to speak,and there's a baby somewhere garglingthe meaning of his life,and he's a little bit upset that youkeep wiping itaway(i have no words for you)
.there issomethingabouthow you can makeall the animalspart themselveswith one wave ofyourhand,make them opentheir throats andspeakand i think i willfind you sticking pinsthrough the webbingof a bat's wing,cross legged inthe garden withthe snake aroundmy neck,that's how i'd liketo go(the world will shift, a heart will break away from it's chest, tectonic)
.i noticeyou bite the skin ofyour lip, toowhen you're nervousor have nothing tosay -writing is startingto feel a bitlike a disease -just like your brotherdoesyou know you'reexactly the sameas him -one that all thewords in the worldwon't ever cure -i'll just have toget to know youthat way, i guessno don't walkaway -i want the foxto hunt the hound,the badger to cullthe human(let's take a walk down memory lane, let's see if i can finally ditch you)
.mother i'msorryand brotheri worry aboutyouhe's deadbut still livinginside me iknew thisfresh startwould havethe samerottenending(gonna build you up nice and bitter)
.i walk into the garden at3am, find death digginghis own grave in the middleof my lawn, he says he'sdead to me now, he canjust feel it in his bones,points at the mud and saysdirt is dirtit can't pretend that it'sanything else,oh and i found that peg you lost,it was under the conifer,climbs in covers himself and leavesme standing alone(keeps sending me postcards, i wish you were here)
.some need to know lifelike the beasts do, the heronthe stray dog the cobra the salmondead in it's stream,but i want to shed out of my skin,don't want to be no white ghost no moreand i met a magician, got rid ofthe dirt in my mind,pulled my memories outof my temple like napkins,made a mess i couldn't clean upon the pavement outside, no tip for him,you're gonna have to excusethe mess in my soul, i wasn'texpecting visitors,been pleading with words for anexplanation, came home late last nightsmelling of someone else's ink,i think i saw the light then buti heard the darkness too, i kicked themout, now it's just me and mycrazy i keep in a tank,watch him grow limbs and climb outover the side, and now sometimeshe sits on my lap and i stroke him,but he's getting too heavy to hold andhe's starting to speak for himself,says don't drink that be goodi need you and you need me and youknow it, i don't think you can evertruly know someone until you can admitto yourself t
.lies can slipthrough your teethwith ease,the truthgets caught inyour throat(i wish it was a lie, that i'm your flesh and blood and i wish it was the truth, that i hadn't been drinking)
.i can almost hearthe soundof everything -foxesweepingon the bodiesof rabbits, idid not meanto, i did notmean -howling andhowling,the deer inthe headlights sayingi told you so(and do you hear that? that's the sound of it all caving in)
.if thesewalls couldtalkthen i'm surethey'd bescreamingget out,burn usdown,we can'tbearto hold youanylonger(been too busy dreaming to get any sleep)
.i like to feed things inthrough my mind and then pull themright out of my chest when they'redone,put it on paper and call ita poem, feed itback into the brainand repeat, butanxiety says justlet this stuff go -cough up those wordsthat you've got in yourchest and dust off theshelf in your lungs, feelthem one last time if you wantbut please, send them away intheir poems, and quicki'm realsorry buti'm just notdone with themyetthere's nopoetry dripi can ripfrom the backof my handand my neck,can'tdischarge myselffrom this one(chew it up, spit it out)
.i ami amhiding poetry under the sheetsthink my heart might be beatingthe shit out of meonly thing up there is theclouds, and they don't givea fuck either, the only thingdown there is the dirt, andthat's what you are, you'rea liar(he will say you're gonna have to lower your standards a bit, got a room downstairs might be more suited)
.and god-i saw the moonleaking into the sea,a great big silvery slickon the wavesand as i held my hands upto the hole in her side,she smiled and soakedinto me(gentle, gentle, she doesn't have long)
.there is a bodybloodless and pale,with dirty handstrying to wash it alloff, because if shecannot see it there'sa chance it won'texistso she buriedthe blood in themud with her babyteeth, asked theriver to take itaway, felt her bonesheave a sigh as shelay them all downon the banklet itallslip away(and no doubt he will say she was crazy, this bitch, with her tongue and her teeth and her mind)
.a mother says to her soncan you feel the world lodgedin your rib? do not tellme you can't, it's right thereand let's not tell godanything about this, let's givehim the silent treatment likehe's giving to us,sometimes i wake up wantingto shred myself into ribbonstie me up in a bow and send myselfto your doorstep with noreturn address and let you deal with it,you're not listening and you're notunderstanding, you're too busytrying to read all the text, buti can go days without speakingone word, got a habit of holding mybreath diving into my own mindfor hours, blue bottomless poolriver veins with the bones of a dreamdrifting through, some stuck on thebanks all dried up and thirsty, thisshark tooth reminds me of you so ipress it in hard, still not one singledrop, a baby raccoon floats by withno life but wide eyes, i know you'llpray the horned god sends himstraight to the sea, drown him outwith that voice that says maybenext year when you search foryourself, yo
.tonight across the street i sawthe devil sneak into god's garden;he took trowel in hand, planted seedsin the earth, grinned real wide andshut the white gate behind him(gonna come up smelling of roses)
.i often ask myself questionsand answer them too,maybe tell yourkids this,that i'm the wolf in the woods, i justsaw red and couldn't help it, whatcan i say i've got atemper, i couldn't waitto grip her neck insidemy jaws n shake it, snapit clean, cracked like a twig,you see she was a bitch she was awhore, she had itcoming, with hersweet laugh and her lips, herswaying hips inside, she carrieda rifle in her cloak, she wantedmy pelt for the angry winter,and her old gran? i suckedthe meat fromher lame ribs like she'd have donethe same to mine, i licked mychops and got inbed,had good sweet dreams untilthat axe man, that old drunk,who thought he had some bigger ballscame stumbling in through her frontdoor,they found his gutson the hall floor,and i can stillsmell it amileoff -but what i'm sayingkids, the moral is,there's nothing little bout the amountof red you're gonna see inlife, it's all about whether or notyou've got the stonesto fucking stomach it(
The PlaylistA group of us lying on the floorin a too-small apartmentthat can’t hold a fraction of our disorderssyndromes and symptomstucked under the kitchen sinkand in between self help booksand in the pages of love poetryonly half meant.A group of us lying on the floorwishing we could see the stars.but thats not how the architecturehas been set up for uswe have to live our lives blinkeredfrom the celestialbut at least we have each other.A group of us lying on the floorletting music replace our immune systemsnot caring if a misspent lyric saves us,not caring if a dropped note kills uswe don’t care about anything but the floor,these walls, these chains,that sound so familiar in an acoustic’s voice.A group of us lying on the floorcaring about nothing but the ceilingthats blocking out the light.
Morpheus Hexi.I am the moon walker,the black coffee athletein the star-dotted evening gown.I am young, but I feel old,like an antique withfresh paint.Sleep lives in my shadow,a morphine caregiverwith gentle hands,but I dare not fall into his arms.There is a sad knowledgein his eyesthat I do not trust.ii.You left me behind,but my pillow stillsmells like you,and now my bed feelslike a fucking coffinwithout you in it.iii.Nights like thismake me wonderwhat it feels like to die.It bothers me thatonly the dead know,and they refuse to share their secret.One day I will find outthe truth for myself,and that scares me.iv.Three a.m. teaches youhow to suffer quietly.Sleep pulls on my sleevelike a black-cloaked child.He tells me everything will be alright(but by morning, I knowhe will be gone, andI will be alone again).
The Dead SeaI offered water to her,but she was a seaI offered love to her,but she was deadI offered words to herand she hated me.
Barb WireYour barb-wired brainwon't let me in,and I'm getting cuttrying to jumpthe fence.
you should be home by nowlast tuesday the house took my hand & said,it's more of a hurricane than a firesince he broke in & burnedmy curtainsmy floorsmy bridgesmy selfbut sometimes I see her with a lighter& she finishes what he didn't do(I think she's afraidof settling in,being quiet)but last tuesday I realized that she kept the lights onto frighten away the bridges & the peopleso no one will come inside& smash the teacups, steal the pipesbecause since he burnt her beds outno one lives there anymore
Small as a Mouse (YouTube link included)When I was 13 my first counsellor asked me what animal I thought I was most like. A mouse. A dormouse, I said, because I sleep a lot. She laughed, and I laughed, and everyone in the gallery agreed how funny it was. It was true. I sleep all day because sleep is the natural anaesthetic and the only way I could numb the nerve endings crackling their anger through my brain.(faster)No one ever asked me again. No one ever asked me why I was late for school every day, why I ignored alarms and never ate breakfast. They told me to buy a clock, buy another clock, buy a better clock. I did what I was told, like I always have, but it didn’t make a difference because at the end of the day, at the start of the day, I’d rather be asleep. Awake and arithmetic had nothing to offer me, just give me sleep. I’d skip classes and parties, miss birthdays and brunches, just give me sleep.(slower)My friends were used to it, I ran on my own timezone, it became a personal joke. They laughed
and i am caught in your teethoutside, you are roses.you are spring day,a summer morning,a flower in dewdropslearning to blossom.but you have hands made of thorns,and you are grasping my heart with a clenched fist.i am a half-alive bird caughtin the talons of a hawk,feathers tearing from my bleeding skinand splashing in the mud.i keep scissors in my nightstand,but you are a weedthat one must rip out at the root.unfortunately,my hands are ghoststhat were never too goodat grasping things in the first place.
Could I Send You The StarsCan I send you the stars?A million twinkling letttersWaiting above your head each night to be readIn gentle melody like midnight lullabiesFor the girl I dearly wish could hear them.Can I borrow your moon?I know without it your nights may feel emptyBut I envy its lovely radiance shiningUpon those two eyesI wish I could see wish I could gaze intoSo instead could I borrow your Moon?And gaze into it hoping I'll find the lovelinessOf your eyes there instead.Could I steal your Sun?And pocket it's millionsAnd millions of memoriesOf lightly caressing you with its raysKnowing the feel of every beautifully delicatePart of you for every day of every year..Could I lease your dreams?And reside there with youUnderneath our stars' gentle lullabiesAnd beneath the Moon's loving gazeAway from the Sun's prying raysWith you...Since you're all I really need.So could I send you the starsAnd hope they'll send my love too?
Fly little childChild of air and lighthiding within a cageof leaves and twigswhy do you not rise?One who hangs so near to the skyhas no right to neglect itto return to the groundand crawl amongst the worms beneathlike those you chose to rise abovelike those who can only aspireto be so near to the sky as you.Child of feather and beautyHanging between wonder and despairto do not hear the sound of your wings' sadnessdo you not hear how they weep?How they beg for a returnfor a chanceto bask amongst the cloudsfor which they were meant to see.Children of wonder and sunlightwill rise above your chainsof fear and hoplesness?Rise and fly above me , above the Earthabove all of usand let us watch from the shadows of your wings.Little childwill you fly for yourself,will you fly fo
.i can't give youthatbut i can birth youa godwith my eyes instead,pray to him hard withmy tongue(take refuge when he wakes)